


Say Amen

by SinningPlumpPrincess



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Crowley has a dick, Cumming on Clothing, M/M, Mutual Pining, One getting off, Other, Pining, Praise Kink, humping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 07:58:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19437226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinningPlumpPrincess/pseuds/SinningPlumpPrincess
Summary: Despite being in a relationship, they still long and yearn for each other.Despite being in a relationship, Crowley can't get over that Aziraphale loves touching him.





	Say Amen

What you must know about Aziraphale and Crowley was that, for over 6,000 years, they had been playing a game of chase. 

Whether Aziraphale would like to admit it or not, he had been aware of the whole thing. Crowley’s implications, the soft flirting, how the demon would give a crooked smirk and it would strike something in the angel like a sharp sword. So hard he would have to turn away lest his vessel’s ears burn as red as his cheeks. 

The thing about Aziraphale was that he liked the wily serpent’s chase. He enjoyed their banter between each other, the opposites attract aspect. Something exciting and warm always thrilled through him when he saw Crowley with his glasses in hand or to the side, gesturing with his other hand in conversation. 

More often times than not he caught himself looking towards Crowley’s lips when an ‘s’ noise was particularly held. Just so he could watch that tempting tongue flick over his lips to wet them. 

The thing about Crowley, on the other hand. He was so used to chasing and flirting, tempting and thwarting. That he did not take into consideration that perhaps, maybe, the angel he’d fallen for in the original act of Paradise, may have liked him back. How Aziraphale’s plump cheeks lifted with his smile, how he wore spectacles for no reason other than to wear them when he read. Pushing them up his nose and turning his head to hide a smile. 

Now. The thing about the both of them. 

They were both madly in love with each other. 

Aziraphale finds himself, even after all these years, thinking about the serpent with fondness. How he sometimes missed his long, red hair curling down his shoulders. Recently cut to fit the social norms of current standards of society. 

How he longed to press his lips to Crowley’s neck, to inhale his smoky, dark scent and curl his much softer frame into Crowley’s bony one. 

It shouldn’t even be a passing thought he has. How he longs, longs and yearns for Crowley’s touch. Even a simple hand on the shoulder and Crowley almost seemed...nervous to touch him. As if his touch would burn the angel alive and they would be left with nothing but yearning, longing hearts. 

Aziraphale sighs. Sitting in his bookshop was always a comfort, especially at his desk. Yet, he’s finding himself almost agitated. Sliding a hand under his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose and pinching his eyes shut. Flashes of a face peer behind his eyes, a face he is most fond of. Sharp cheekbones, wide eyes, a devilish smile- 

“Ohhh! Stop it!” His voice is a whine at himself, standing up and slamming his hands down at his sides as if frustrated. His cheeks burn pink, stormy blue eyes looking off to the side as he considers his own thoughts. 

It just- it was so much! These feelings! Crowley had been so...tempting! 

These past few months they’d grown closer and closer- if that could even be a thing. Crowley had started staying at his bookshop late into the night, miracling himself a bed until Aziraphale ended up having a right proper bedroom in the back. 

Aziraphale found himself, most nights, coming in just to tuck himself under Crowley’s chin and be comfortable in his arms, for crying out loud! 

So yes, maybe being upset he was thinking about him at a constant when they were in a...well... 

Well, a relationship, shouldn’t be a thing that is happening, yet Anthony J. Crowley consumed every thought he seemed to have lately. 

Perhaps these romance novels were simply not working for him. He could switch to something more, well, biblical. Perhaps that would stop these thoughts of- 

“Angel!” Comes a cheery voice from behind him. Aziraphale’s eyes brighten like a puppy dog’s and his metaphorical heart beats twice fold. From the back, it’s easy to see him perk up, turning with a small step to look towards Crowley with a fond smile. 

“Yes, my dear? You seem awfully excited about something, what could it possibly b- mmnph!” Aziraphale was so caught up in the moment he doesn’t notice Crowley coming forward until he’s pressed against his desk, lips pressed to his own and his eyes flutter. Not registering it at first until his boyf—husb-- /partner/ is pulling back. 

No matter how many times they’d done that, Crowley’s face still turns just as pink as Aziraphale’s. There’s a comfort in that. 

There’s an even bigger comfort in how Crowley’s lithe body presses to his much softer one. Long fingers still resting upon Aziraphale’s plump cheek to cup him softly. Over 6,000 years, and Aziraphale is on his toes in excitement, in an almost hunger as Crowley’s eyes linger far too long on the way Aziraphale bites his bottom lip. 

What...was it he was so happy about? He had something to tell him. Yet, now Crowley is lost. The tingling taste of something vanilla-like left on his lips from the angel, how Aziraphale is looking at him expectantly. 

It’s too much, the affection is too much, it’s all too much. And Crowley, Crowley pulls away. 

Slowly retracting his body to give his angel space, who looks a bit...disappointed? However, Crowley merely clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he finally shows what he’d been carrying this entire time in a mere plastic bag on his wrist. Funny how memory strikes you back. 

“That, uh, bakery you like- on the third block over? They had those cakess- ahem. Cakes you liked.” Clearing his throat at his held ‘s’ as he offers the bag. 

That certainly brightens that pouty look Aziraphale had, gleefully taking the bag and thanking him with a peck on the cheek that does NOT send Crowley’s dead heart back to life, thank you. 

Now, there was something you needed to know about these two. 

Though now, understanding each other’s affections, Aziraphale loved to kiss and touch. Loved to be close and stay close to Crowley. 

Now, Crowley may have loved that as well, but after going 6,000 plus years thinking you would only ever be on a mutually pining stage. Meant that Anthony J. Crowley was having a hard time catching up to the...the kissing, the hand holding, the strange yet loving thing Aziraphale did with their noses nuzzling, to the...the... 

The few nights spent. Where Crowley mapped out Aziraphale’s soft frame with his fingers. How the angel trembled beneath him, biting his lower lip and throwing his head back and making noises he’d only dreamt of. 

To Crowley, under Aziraphale, burning to the ears and huffing at every compliment, every praise showered upon him. Of how beautiful Aziraphale thought he was, of how much he adored Crowley, how he was the Sun and Aziraphale was the helpless Icarus who would burn his poor wax wings to be with him- 

“I really must thank you properly, my dear! Oh, you know how much your small gifts mean to me. Can I te—encourage you the bedroom?” Aziraphale’s voice cuts through his thoughts, not realizing he’d been stuck mid-way. Arm stuck out and face still flushed. 

His eyes stay big and wide behind his glasses as he looks towards Aziraphale- sweet, sweet Aziraphale. His fluffy white curls were getting longer these days, now curling onto his cheeks rather than resting simply atop his head. Crowley swallows thickly at how bright Aziraphale’s eyes are, sparkling with adoration and a touch of mischief. 

How could he say no to such a tempting look? 

\-- 

“You are so beautiful, my love. I wish you could see yourself. Ah- there you are, relax for me.” Aziraphale’s voice is soft and cooing. Damned angel is what he was, fallen, Crowley’s mental voice nags. 

Though, perhaps that is because the praise is too much at times. 

Crowley has been stripped to nothing. Glasses delicately set on the nightstand next to the bed. Aziraphale had instructed to see all of him, but did say if it became too much, he knew their safe word and he could grab his glasses if he needed to. 

A safe word, even used in not so rough scenarios. It was simply because Crowley may have to stop if the praise DID become too much. A precaution. Something Aziraphale must have learned in his times in certain clubs around the cities. 

Yet, now, he lies beneath Aziraphale. Pale skin bared up to the angel, his chest heaves with breaths he does not need. Head tipped back and to the side to try to hide his burning face. 

His cock is hard, lying against his abdomen and jerking every time Aziraphale’s soft, pudgy fingers massage upwards into his thighs. 

A full body massage, that’s what he was being given as a ‘thank you’. However, Crowley knew better with how devilish his partner could be, what this would turn out into. 

With Aziraphale’s praise dripping from his tongue generously and his fingers expertly working over any kinks in his body. Crowley swallows down a moan, cock jerking and a drool of pre-cum escaping him onto his abdomen. Yet, Aziraphale just ignores that part. 

Cruel angel. 

Sliding his hands up and over Crowley’s abdomen, over his sharp hip bones and humming fondly as Crowley exhales sharply with a soft, “You’re killing me here, angel.” In this high-pitched whine that Aziraphale smiles a bit at. 

“Patience is a virtue.” Is all Aziraphale chirps back. Hands sliding over him, working onto his sides and making Crowley sigh as his warm body comes overtop his own. 

Aziraphale shuffles a bit closer, still fully dressed sans his coat and nice loafers, tossed to the side. His rounded tummy presses softly, almost teasingly to Crowley’s crotch area and he can’t help the whimper that arises. 

A hiss follows the noise when hands come up to his chest, deliberately sliding over his nipples where thumbs play gently for a moment in circles. His head falls back, too sensitive there and baring his throat to which Aziraphale takes as an invitation. Lips sealing over his pulse point and beginning to kiss and nibble along his throat. 

Then finally, finally his body weight comes atop Crowley. Applying pleasant weight until Crowley can thrust his hips up and shamelessly hump against the soft angel above him. 

He smells so good, something sweet, something floral. Crowley’s eyes about roll in his head when his jawline is sucked on, leaving a fond bruise over his skin. Of course, he could miracle it away later. 

He wouldn’t. 

“That’s it, good boy.” Aziraphale coos right next to his ear, making Crowley whimper as he humps upwards. Sliding his drooling cock over Aziraphale’s clothing. 

It feels so good- so dirty in a way. The way Aziraphale is just letting him sully his clothing. Crowley should be worshipping him, on his knees, mouthing at Aziraphale’s crotch and feeling his partner yank at his hair until Crowley begs for forgiveness- 

That does it for him. 

He sobs out as he cums, hips lurching up and his bony fingers digging into Aziraphale’s plush hips to keep him still above him. Another bruise is sucked into the side of his neck, just beneath his ear as his cum soaks into the clothing above him. 

With a few gentle kisses along his face, Crowley’s eyes about roll into the back of his head. A bit tear filled in a way that makes him feel right fucked. Vaguely hearing Aziraphale cooing to him, sweet words as he nuzzles his jawline. “So good for me, Crowley. You looked beautiful. You’re such a good boy, my dear. My very good boy.” 

Perhaps. 

Perhaps on days like this. 

Crowley could take such affection.


End file.
